Love and Care
by DannyRoranicus44
Summary: Snipets of the Merlin character's lives during childhood and before Merlin arrives in Camelot.
1. Love and Care - Arthur - age 6

**A/N: Just a small thing I thought of when I saw a deleted scene from Series 4.**

**Reviews are appreciated. **

A young Arthur stared outside his bedroom window, bored of being stuck in the castle - unable to explore the outside world without being surrounded by many guards.

Beneath him, in the town that sat just outside the castle, the people were getting along with their normal lives, just like every other day. People were at the market, buying their food with their hard-earned money and young children were entertaining themselves by pelting a misfortuned adult with rotten fruit.

But there was only one thing that caught the young Pendragon's eye and grasped his attention more than anything else.

A young, black haired boy, around Arthur's age, had tripped over a stick and cut his knee. Although there was only a trickle of blood, the boy was in hysterics, sobbing his eyes out.

Arthur continued to watch as a women dropped the fruit she had just purchased and ran to the boy, cradling him in his arms and rocking him, kissing his forehead in an attempt to calm him. Although Arthur was a fair distance away and couldn't hear what they were saying, he could make out the women whispering into the boy's ear, cheering him up and causing the boy to laugh.

The boy jumped back onto his feet and ran off happily again.

It was Arthur's turn to be sad now - yet unlike this black-haired boy, he had no one to comfort him. No one to whisper in his ear and make him laugh, forgetting his troubles within an instinct - for there was a large difference between Arthur and this other boy: the black-haired boy had a mother, someone to care for him and hold him when he needed someone to tell him that everything was going to be okay. And the blunt but honest truth was that Arthur did not.

Arthur blinked and furiously wiped away a tear, princes didn't cry.

"Arthur," the blonde haired boy spun around to see his father stood in the doorway, watching him in concern - a look the young boy rarely got from the King of Camelot.

"Father, why don't I have a mummy?"


	2. Lava and Dragons - Arthur - age 7

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews! Here's a new chapter!**

A young Arthur Pendragon wobbled as he almost fell into the pit of lava lying centimetres beneath his feet. One false move and he'd fall to his death. He couldn't afford to slow down though - the dragon would be upon him soon enough. Taking a deep breath, he leapt forwards, just managing to reach the next rock on his quest to cross the lava river.

The young Prince could see the bank on the other side getting closer as he continued to follow the stepping stones laid out in front of him - leaping from one to the other, hoping not to burn to death in the flowing lava beneath him. His feet were moving fast and agilely as he made forward progress - the end within touching distance.

As he took his penultimate leap from one rock to another, he got distracted by a creaking sound behind him. Had the dragon managed to catch up with him already? Whilst getting distracted, Arthur missed the next rock and his foot fell to hit the wooden floor beneath him.

Arthur flopped onto his bed - annoyed with the intruder for causing him to die when he was so close to the finishing point.

"Would you care to explain this mess, Arthur?" Arthur shot up to sit on the edge of his bed when he recognised his father's voice. "Why are your pillows scattered across the floor?"

"I was bored," Arthur complained, watching his father stare in amazement at the trail of pillows leading from the door to Arthur's bed.

"So you thought throwing pillows across the floor would cure you're boredom?" Arthur wasn't sure if he was trying to make a joke or being deadly serious.

"They're stepping stones, father! The floor's a river of lava! I have to get from the temple back to my safe castle before the dragon catches me!" Arthur explained a little more than he had wanted to but was pleased with the game he had invented.

"Arthur, all the dragons have been dealt with. You don't have to worry about them."

"I know that father! It's pretend!"

"But why pretend?"

Arthur sighed, glancing towards his window. "I watch them. Everyday I watch the other children play but I can't play with them. I can't play with anyone."

"That's going to change, Arthur," Uther told him.

Arthur jumped to his feet in delight. "You mean I can play with them?" He asked, bouncing up and down in excitement.

"We've been through this, Arthur it's too-"

"Dangerous, I know," Arthur sighed, returning to his bed in dismay. "Then how's it going to change?"

"Do you remember Morgana?"


	3. First Friend - Arthur - age 6

**A/N: Thanks for the reviews, follows and favourites - I really appreciate them! This is another Arthur one - I do have some ideas for Merlin based chapters, I just loved the idea for this chapter! **

At one point in his life, just before his seventh birthday, Arthur Pendragon wasn't lonely. At the age of six, he had a friend - someone he could trust and talk to who wouldn't act or treat him any differently just because he was a Prince.

This friend was Jet.

Jet was small and couldn't hurt a fly yet Arthur loved him nevertheless. Although he wasn't allowed in Arthur's chambers, the young boy would get up early to join his friends, who slept in the stables with the horses, and play fetch.

For Jet was a puppy and his father had seen it fitting for him to have responsibility over something. Arthur, however, quickly became attached, seeing Jet as someone to confide with, a friend, a companion, rather than a chore or responsibility. He would walk the small, excitable puppy around the courtyard happily.

Even though Uther was worried about the strong bond between boy and puppy, he couldn't help but see the change in Arthur since the puppy had become his - he would no long moped around the castle bored, or interrupt the Knights training by trying to copy them for he was preoccupied.

Two days before his seventh birthday, the young Pendragon jumped out of his bed - changing rapidly and running for the stables, happily breaking his father's rule about running through the corridors (before the rule had been put in place, Arthur would constantly knock food or clothes out of servants hands).

Reaching the stables, Arthur was surprise to find that Jet wasn't up and ready to get going - normally barking in delight and bouncing up and down whenever Arthur came into sight.

After a quick search of the stables, it was clear that Jet was nowhere to be seen. Disappointed and upset at the fact that Jet had broken his trust, Arthur trooped back to his chambers.

Lying on his bed, his face buried in his pillow, Arthur tried to figure out what he had done wrong. He had tried as hard as he could to ensure Jet didn't feel lonely and left out, he'd fed and watered him at least three times a day and he'd play with him for as long as possible.

"Arthur?" Arthur lifted his head up and awkwardly glanced over his shoulder to see his father standing in the doorway. "Where's that dog of yours? You haven't hidden him in your chambers again, have you?" His father questioned, moving towards the cupboard where Arthur had attempted to hide home last time.

"He's abandoned me!" Arthur exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. "Just like everyone does - mother and Jet! It'll probably be you next!"

"Arthur - I'll never leave you. You're too precious to me than that," Arthur looked up in shock - it was rare to hear his father say something such as that - he was normally too busy worrying about or killing the bad guys who wanted to ruin Camelot with their bad powers.

"Promise?"


	4. Father-Son Relationship - Arthur- age 14

**A/N: Arthur again but Merlin will hopefully be next! I decided Uther was being a little too nice and this popped into my head!**

**Reviews would be appreciated!**

A fourteen year old Arthur Pendragon stood in the middle of his room, wielding a sword. He moved about the room, practicing his footwork as he waved the sword around.

"Arthur Pendragon!" A cold voice coming from behind him told Arthur that his father had, once again, caught him practicing his swordsmanship inside. "What have I told you about using your sword inside?"

"Not to," Arthur sighed, chucking it onto his bed – why could he never have any fun within the castle?"

"I've just had a very insightful and interesting conversation with your tutor," his father explained why he had made time to visit Arthur in the first place. Arthur closed his eyes and groaned silently – this wasn't going to end well. "You'll never guess what he told me."

"I'm sure you're going to tell me," Arthur retorted, bored of these formal conversations with his father.

His comment earned him a glare, "he told me that you get distracted by anything to do with swords."

"Maybe that's because I don't know what you want me to do! Most of the time, it's about becoming a great warrior – winning tournaments but as soon as I focus on that you decide that I'm not spending enough time reading poetry," Arthur snapped, fed up of all the mixed messages from his father.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that again. I'd like to remind you that I am the King," his father's common and well known short-temper now raised its ugly head.

"What about being a father?" Arthur asked, no longer yelling but speaking in a softer tone, the loneliness of the first half of his childhood, before Morgana had arrived in Camelot to live with them permanently, speaking through him. "When does that fit into all this fun and games about kings, princes and knights?"

"Arthur, I know we haven't always had the best relationship and it hasn't been easy without a mother but I have always been trying my best. When you're king, you'll understand that sometimes the kingdom has to be put in front of family sometimes," Uther explained to him.

"But maybe you're best isn't good enough. Maybe you're putting the kingdom in front of family more than you should be. Maybe you're too wrapped up with ridding Camelot of sorcerers that you-"

"You think I should let those who practise evil to roam the streets of Camelot freely?"

"All I want is some attention for once. Just so I know that I'm not completely invisible to you," Arthur found himself on the verge of pleading – he would never have thought that he was that desperate.

"I don't need parenting tips from a fourteen year old," Came his father's only response. "You'll understand the importance of ridding magic from Camelot when you're king." With that, the current King stalked out of Arthur's bedroom, pulling the door shut behind him.

"Thanks, father! That was a very nice, interesting conversation," Arthur muttered dryly and sarcastically as he picked up his sword again. He would show his father – he'd become the best swordsman in the realm. Perhaps then, when he was winning all the tournaments he entered, would his father finally see him.


	5. Nobility - Gwaine - Age 13

**A/N: This is a short one and I'm not ****_too _****sure about it but I posted it anyway!**

**It's not about Merlin but it's also not Arthur for once!**

**Reviews are appreciated!**

Nobility

A thirteen year old boy, who's hand subconsciously fingered his dragon scale necklace, scoffed as he watched the crowd cheer for their King: Caerlon.

Why couldn't anyone see that they didn't give a damn about the beliefs of their people or the type of houses they had to live in? While they were nice and cosy in their massive, roomy castles, people were struggling to feed their family. And yet nobles never bothered to do anything about that.

Even if no one else could see it, Gwaine could. All kings, and princes, for that matter, wanted was power and control of people. They didn't care about feelings, they just wanted to control their thirst for the feeling of superiority.

They liked people to fight for them but wouldn't bat an eyelid if anyone died fighting for them. They wouldn't even bother to help the family of those killed fighting for them when a single mother went to them, begging for help.

They cared only for themselves yet gained all the cheering and applause that Gwaine could hear them getting currently.

His fist clenched in anger, and he was half convinced to boo before he felt his mother grab his hand. Turning to his left, Gwaine's eyes lay upon his mother - so soft and gentle yet denied any help from Caerlon. They didn't even deserve the time it takes Gwaine to boo - they didn't deserve any of Gwaine's time.

Gwaine pulled his hand away and stalk off. He needed to get away from the nobility and the cheering. He needed to go someplace quiet where he could gather his thoughts and think.

After thirty minutes, Gwaine found himself stood staring at his father's small gravestone. His father had been a trustworthy knight of Caerlon's for many years and had even died fighting for him - yet his grave was in a small area, surrounded by overgrown vegetation and located a fair distance from the Kingdom that he had laid down his life fighting for. "I promise you, father. I shall never lift a finger to help anyone of nobility ever again," Gwaine promised bitterly before turning away.


End file.
